The Ending
by Elpin
Summary: The way I think the books have to end. [The situation not the actual words or scene.] It's a little sad I guess, but I wasn't actually going for sad. Oh, well. Very short and my first nonslash fic.


Note: This is my ending to Harry Potter series. I think this is the way it has to be, and I think Harry knows that as well. But it's not all bad. Don't take it too seriously though. I know it's not going to be like this in the books. This just popped into my head when I was watching the rain and wishing I was outside.

The Ending

I wish I could feel the rain. If I could have one wish come true in this moment, it would be to feel the rain. I have always loved the rain. So clean and beautiful. So happy and hopeful. Especially this kind of rain, the great drops falling straight down, no wind, and the spring turning even greener from the wetness. Fitting that it is this kind of rain on this day. No sadness in it whatsoever, just the way I like it.

My head is turned upwards, as if I can feel the drops fall on my face, but I can't, so I look forwards to the people standing and talking. I can't hear them, but I know what they are saying, about the war, about Voldermort, about me. I move towards them, walking casually and carefully so as not to touch them, as if I could feel anything and might knock into someone. I finally reach the great stone monument. It's horrible, ghastly, everything I feared and knew it would be. A smile plays on my lips as I watch the rain fall on it, making it seem pretty despite its awful size and shape.

I turn and watch my friends, all sad, all wrong. Hermione is crying of course. I wish she wouldn't. I want her to laugh, because I feel like laughing. I almost do, but then I remember I can't make any sounds. But that doesn't matter. Sound is not important right now. I look at Ron, who is fighting back tears as well. I want to punch him suddenly, but only playfully, in a way that would make him punch me back and we would end up rolling on the grass, mud and all. My gaze wanders as I take in the mourners. There's Minerva, I can't seem to use her last name anymore, or anyone's for that matter. It's hard to be formal in death. I see Fred, George, Molly, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Arthur, Alastor, Nymphadora and Remus. All of them so sad. I see a few more farther away that I don't recognize, and I know the ones on the edge of the grass are reporters. Will they never stop following me? Ah, but they can't, not anymore.

I look around and note everyone who isn't here. Severus is gone, as is Draco, which is sad I suppose, but then it's hard feeling sad that others are dead, when I'm happy over my current status. I wonder briefly if Sirius or Dumbledore did what I am doing now. Did they feel this elated? I hope so. Merlin, I hope so.

Hermione reaches out suddenly, to lay a single rose on my grave. How odd, to see someone making such a gesture. You always hope, I suppose, that someone will do those sorts of things when you're gone, but now I wish I could flick it away with my wand. It's pointless and sad and I don't want it there. Her tears fall more freely, mingling with the rain. I want to stop them. I want to explain that there is no reason to cry. I can hear her all of a sudden, though not the words themselves. I know her too well not to understand.

"He didn't deserve this, Ron. God, I wish… I. He deserved so much more." Even in my mind she sobs. Ron in holding her, she would probably fall down if he didn't. I reach out and almost touch her hair, though I don't bother to actually try. I smile at her instead. They don't understand at all do they? I've gotten everything I deserve. I have gotten more then I could ever have hoped for. Death is a small price to pay for peace. You see the amazing thing is that I am still whole, still me. I'm still Harry, and not even Voldermort could take that away, even in death he couldn't wrench my soul apart like his own. That has always been my greatest fear. That in killing him I would be tearing myself apart, but I'm still whole, and a part of me knows that it's because I'm dead. That I died before it could happen.

Poor Hermione. She doesn't know how much I wanted this. She doesn't understand that I _always_ had to die. From the very beginning there was always a part of me that knew, deep down. What other ending could there possibly be for The Boy Who Lived? A happily ever after? With my soul in shreds from killing so many, even if they were all evil? Even the nickname makers had the foresight to call me by a name in the past tense. I lived, lived just long enough. I am happy now, content, and they are all ruining it by looking so sad.

"Fitting that it should rain." I know Alastor would say that, or grumble it perhaps. Even he is looking teary-eyed, how terrifying. But they can't see how beautiful and joyful this rain is. I feel _it_ pulling at me now. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I don't have long. I smile at my friends one last time, shaking my head at them that they could be so sad when I'm so happy, but I can't hold that against them. They will get over it. If only I could feel the rain one last time, then this moment would be perfect. I move my lips, silently saying goodbye to them all. I can't choose to stay with them. It would be torture to never feel the rain again. Better to leave it and go somewhere where there is no rain. I look up at the sky one last time, and for a moment I fancy I can actually feel drops on my cheeks. Warmth fills me and I sigh, though there is no air in me, full of contentment. The end is finally here. It ended just the way it was suppose to. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The End.

Note: Please don't take it too seriously, but feel free to review and tell me what you think!


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